


melting under blue skies

by himbodad



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Beach House Fic! Beach House Fic!, Beach Vacation, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rainer is a blupjeans kid, Summer break, Trans Fitzroy, Trans Magnus Burnsides, Trans Male Character, Vacation, jrunks (jean swim trunks), rainer and fitzroy are wlw and mlm solidarity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himbodad/pseuds/himbodad
Summary: The Thundermen have been invited to the summer home of Rainer Michelle and her family. Fitzroy and Argo are pining, as always. Rainer's parents are much more famous and also scarier than ever imagined. She also has a seemingly endless stream of aunts and uncles. Argo wants to swim in the cool ocean as much as possible. Fitzroy wants to stay out of the sun while also staring at Argo's swim trunks. The Firbolg just wants to spend some time in the trees with the tiny man Rainer says is her uncle.
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Barry Bluejeans/Lup, Davenport/Merle Highchurch, Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone), all of these are background except maplekeene
Comments: 75
Kudos: 193





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rainer is the child of Blupjeans and you cannot tell me otherwise. What better way to deal with quarantine loneliness and the beginning of warm weather in SoCal than to write a summer break/beach fic?
> 
> The title is from the song Accidentally in Love by Counting Crows, because it was on my maplekeene playlist and also why not?

Summer breaks at Hieronymous Wiggenstaff’s School for Heroism and Villainy were quite a different affair than those at other learning institutions. The option of staying the whole summer long was available to the students, and many chose to in order to work in the town of Last Hope. For the shorter breaks, this was the plan that was followed by the Thundermen three. For the longer breaks, they wished to return to their homes.

Or they would have wished to return to their homes, if any of them actually had one. Argo’s mother was gone, leaving him with no known family still on the earth. The Firbolg had been exiled from his community. And while Fitzroy’s family was still alive and well, he saw no reason to visit them. His last visit had been… less than satisfactory, for reasons he wished not to discuss. 

Thus, the trio had, without a word spoken to each other, unanimously decided to remain at the school for the entirety of their summer break, despite how pitiful that made them seem. Argo was hoping to have spent his break lounging around on a beach somewhere, soaking up the sun and enjoying the ocean waves that he missed so dearly. The Firbolg sought only to sit solemnly in the heat amidst a forest of towering trees. Fitzroy didn’t know what he wanted. He had never been one to enjoy the summer time. The heat was often too much for him, the brutal force of the sun overwhelming his fair complexion. Not to mention the difficulty with which summer dressing was for him. The reasons behind that difficulty were still being hidden from his friends, which presented a layer of added pressure to him. 

It’s a fine morning, the first one of summer break. Outside of the building, a breeze is stirring the vibrant green grass that is flourishing under the rejuvenating power of the sun. The bird who once was a boy soars over the heads of the few students who find themselves milling about the campus and into the office of Higglemas Wiggenstaff. If you had a particularly keen eye, you would be able to see Crush and Jimson loading a set of matching suitcases into a wagon, about to take off for their summer home in the hills. Jimson is gently rubbing some sunscreen on his belligerent husband’s face, much to his dismay. 

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt is absorbed in a fitful trance. In his time with roommates, he had discovered that he felt much more at ease with other people in the room, and his newfound lack of this sensation surprisingly saddened him. If he thought it would not seem incredibly odd, particularly given his past comments about sharing a room, he would go into Argo and the Firbolg’s room nightly to fall into a decent trance. 

He wakes to a small knock on the door to his chambers. His gut instinct is to cry out for Snippers, his second instinct to yell at Argo, who is undoubtedly lurking behind the door in an attempt to scare him. With care, the barbarian tiptoes his way towards the noise, and flings the door open, his hands raised in a fighting stance. He brings his gaze down, and then even further down until it reaches the raccoon skeleton belonging to his dear friend Rainer, with a note trapped between it’s small hands.

“Oh, you are a little scoundrel, aren’t you!” Fitzroy exclaims. He crouches down and takes the note from the creature, giving it a little pat on the head in return. It scurries off in the direction of Rainer’s quarters, leaving Fitzroy alone. 

The notes from Rainer are standard, particularly in Fitzroy’s case. He has found the two of them to be quite good friends. Even if her miniature skeleton militia still gives him the creeps. They’ve had a weekly movie night since the beginning of the second semester in an attempt to give Fitzroy the pop culture education that Rainer feels he needs. Last week’s film was (fantasy) Austin Powers, which he did not see the point of. Apparently they’re parodying a different set of films that Rainer did not deem important enough to display for him. He has a sneaking suspicion that she only wished to watch the films for the many beautiful women that appeared throughout the course of the movie. Fitzroy himself didn’t see the appeal, being utterly homosexual, but he would not admit that to Rainer. He wasn’t ready for people to see that side of him, just like he wasn’t ready to reveal his deepest secret to any of his friends. 

Rainer’s note reads as follows:

HEY FITZ! LISTEN, I HAVE A FASCINATING OPPORTUNITY FOR THE THUNDERMEN CORPORATION TO EXPAND. MEET ME IN THE CAFETERIA ASAP. BRING A SUITCASE.

“It’s Fitzroy! I mean- Sir Fitzroy. Jesus, does no one around here have any respect for the knightly profession?” He mutters to himself. Bring a suitcase? Why would he do that? Does he need anything packed in it? Fitzroy decides to leave it be and meet Rainer for breakfast empty handed. If anything, it’s what she deserves for not giving him enough time to emotionally prepare for a sudden meal. 

Fiztroy observes his vast closet. A majority of it is empty, the rest full of fanciful clothing and boxes of brooches. He gives a quick glance outside his window, noting the blinding sun that no doubt brings a wave of heat that he absolutely detests. Were it not for the reputation that he felt he needed to uphold, he would have removed his casual summer clothes from their hiding spot in the back of his closet. That reputation has been carefully maintained over his time here, and he need not destroy it with one stupid outfit. Instead he chooses a deep red cloak, a golden broach, plain white button up, and a pair of charcoal grey pants. The outfit is completed by boots, black ones that give him what little height he has. 

He makes his way into the hallway of the student housing building, accidentally running into Argonaut Keene in the process. Argo is dressed neatly as well, although not nearly as nicely as Fitzroy. The Firbolg is wearing his standard tunic. 

“What are you two doing here?” Fitzroy screams. Argo throws his hands up in defense.

“Rainer wants all of us to meet her for breakfast! We assumed you were probably still, y’know, trancing, so we came by to wake you up. And how do you know who we are anyhow? Those, uh, glasses of yours aren’t making an appearance today.” Argo laughs. Fitzroy frowns, snatching his gold rimmed spectacles from the small table beside his door. He’s leading his friends to believe that he needs the glasses to see. Yet another lie that separates Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt from his peers. 

“I only assumed it was you two. Who else would be coming to my rooms?” Fitzroy avoids eye contact with his friends, taking off down the hall and towards the dining hall. 

“Rainer, Buckminster I suppose, one of the professors… I wouldn’t have been surprised if you mistook Firby for Festo, with your vision! Hey, Fitz, stop walking so fast! Fitzroy!” With that, Argo takes off after his friend. The Firbolg paid no mind to his fellow students. His concern was mainly with the knowing look that the hallway Gary was giving him. He had not previously believed that a Gary could give a look. “Firbolg?” 

“It is nothing.” He replies. He gives the Gary a final glance before trudging away behind his friends. 

\---  
When the trio reaches the dining hall, they see Rainer Michelle in all her glory, her chair floating barely above the ground. Her long blonde hair is draped over her shoulders. She’s wearing her favorite dress. Fire red, with blue stripes curling around the bottom hem. Multiple rings on nearly every finger, some of which, as she had already expressed to her friends, are meant to stabilize her hands on bad days. Today appears to be a good day. Her smile does not appear forced in the slightest. To be honest, given their knowledge of Rainer’s illness in the past, she wouldn’t have gotten out of bed if it were a bad day. 

“You made it! Fitzroy, I took the liberty of ordering you up some crepes. Master Firbolg, we have some freshly picked berries that I hope are to your liking, and Argo-” She’s interrupted by the gasp from the water genasi. He has just caught his first glimpse of the plate full of fruit, all high in Vitamin C. Kiwi, cantaloupe, strawberries, oranges, mango, and more. Not the greatest combination. The taste wasn’t Rainer’s reasoning for the medley. She knew that Argo had a major concern about scurvy, and fruit seemed the tastiest way to get to that. She refused to ask the world renowned chefs of Wiggenstaff’s to make a plate of pepper stuffed peppers. 

“These berries, they are lovely. Did the squirrel bones pick them?” The Firbolg asks from his seat on the floor. He’s large enough that his face still reaches the level of the table. 

“Why yes, they did! I see that none of you decided to follow my instructions with the suitcases.” Fitzroy begins protesting, deciding to swallow down the rest of his sweet crepes before protesting.

“To be fair, Rainer, you didn’t say why we needed a suitcase, nor if we needed to pack it. I simply assumed that I could go back up to my room if need be.” Fitzroy drizzles some more chocolate sauce over his crepes, including the halved strawberries that are dotting them. Rainer has already finished her breakfast of fluffy pancakes doused in maple syrup before any of the Thundermen arrived. 

“I guess I didn’t! My business opportunity isn’t really a business opportunity either.”

“That is… entrapment.” The Firbolg says, his mouth stained blue from the now demolished plate of berries. “You are supposed to tell your friends these kind of things.”

“That’s true, Master Firbolg. If you’ll allow me to, I’ll reveal the truth now.” Rainer shifts in her chair, resting an arm on its perfectly crafted edge. “I noticed that none of you seemed to have any plans for the summer. No, that isn’t supposed to be some personal attack! Why would it be that, Fitzroy? I was wondering if you three wished to accompany me on my summer break! I’ll be visiting my mom and dad, and all of my aunts and uncles too! The beach house is, well, on the beach. I assume you’d like that, Argo. Fitzroy, plenty of my family hates the sun as much as you, so you’ll have more people to be miserable with. Master Firbolg… there’s trees?”

“This sounds beautiful. I would be honored to meet your family.” The Firbolg replies. Argo nods in agreement, leaving Fitzroy as the only opponent to the plan.

“I don’t know. I mean, I have so many plans, I don’t know if I could manage to make room for this trip.” 

“Fizty, we all know your plans are to stay on campus and be grumpy. Come on! Don’t you wanna spend the summer with me?” Argo bats his eyes in Fitzroy’s direction. Damnit. Fitzroy’s limits only go so far. Whether he knows it or not, Argo is manipulating him with his... seductive wiles. 

“Will I be having my own room?” Please say no, please say no.

“I wish I could tell you yes, but I wasn’t raised to lie. I mean, I was. There are some top notch liars in the family. I have a personal code that stands against lying is a more accurate statement. So no, you won’t have your own room. The house is big, but it’s not that big.”

Fitzroy pretends to weigh the options in his head. He tilts his head towards the skies with a haughty sniff. “I suppose that will be acceptable. You said this is a beach house, correct? I’d better get straight to packing.”

“Oh, all three of you should definitely pack! My dad’s going to be here in, let’s see, an hour to pick us all up! I hope he stops by our house before coming. His work outfit is… interesting.”

“Geez! We’d better be off then.” Argo chuckles. If you could see into Argo’s mind, you would find a treasure trove of emotional torment, an uptick in homosexual feelings every time he looks at Fitzroy, and a loose grain of sand, for some reason. If you took a slight detour, you would see the part of his brain that was currently trying to determine what Mr. Michelle’s profession must be. His leading guess was male stripper. He abandoned this idea, because why would a male stripper be only now getting off work? Actually, that still could make sense, depending on the circumstances. 

“Great! I’ll see you three in front of the Annex in an hour then.” Rainer says, grinning from ear to ear. The Thundermen see themselves out. 

\---  
The entire journey back up to their respective rooms is consumed with Fitzroy ranting to his associates about how he simply has nothing beach appropriate to pack. (He does. The clothes are hidden, as he does not enjoy wearing them). Argo is too overcome by the prospect of seeing the ocean to care about anything else. He hasn’t seen the water since the death of his mother. Lakes and moats don’t count, they’re not nearly the same.

Fitzroy slams the door to his chambers behind him, focusing his full attention on his closet and the empty suitcase beside it. What does one bring with them on a summer vacation? Who knows the next time he’d be coming back here! He should have asked Rainer how many outfits he would need to be bringing. 

Before leaving home, his mother would always help him pack. Even now, he finds himself struggling to not yell out for her, asking how many pairs of undergarments should be brought. She would walk in, help him sort through what was necessary and what wasn’t. And then she’d give him a kiss on the cheek, her breath smelling as always of hot mint, and whisper how much she loved him. Her sweet boy. 

But his mother isn’t here now. He’s trying his best to distance himself from the life he once led, if only to succeed for the first time ever. To prove himself to the world that has tried for so long to drag him down with no mercy. Someday, he’ll walk back into the home of Dendra Maplecourt, clad in a suit of armor and clutching a bag of gold. Clutching a symbol of a new life for his mother, a chance at leading the life that she deserves more than anyone else in the world. 

He ignores the sudden urge to burst into tears and instead digs through his closet in search of his summer clothes. Today’s outfit will suffice for the journey to the house- Fitzroy would like to look his best when meeting his friend’s family. After all, she’s the only one of his friends who even has a family to meet. 

Begrudgingly, Fitzroy places a pair of swim trunks in his case. He doesn’t plan on swimming, but one can never be too prepared. The swim trunks means he must also bring his swim top, a garish, long sleeved purple beast. He despises the shirt. He also has no other choice in the matter. 

Slowly, more clothes are gently folded and set in his suitcase, until the entire thing is full. He allows himself a small backpack for his assorted other belongings. Gold sunglasses, a large leatherbound book given to him by one of his relatives that he always reads at the beach, his medication and vials. A large tube of sunscreen for his pale complexion. Fitzroy surveys the room, satisfied with all that has been fit within two bags. It’s nearly everything. Wiggenstaffs is not his home. He has never known that more than he has at this moment. 

“Fitzroy! Hey, we gotta go meet Rainer.” Argo yells, startling the barbarian. Fitzroy picks up his bags, giving one last glance at his room. It looks almost as empty as it had when he moved in. He lifts Snippers up onto his shoulder and walks out. 

The Firbolg has one of those backpacks with a leash on it strapped to his back. It’s shaped like a pegasus, and it is no surprise to Fitzroy that he was able to fit all of his clothing in the tiny bag. Argo is holding the other end of the leash in one hand, a large case in his other. 

“Well then! It appears we’re all ready to go.” 

“Uh, you need any help with those bags, Fitzroy? I mean, they look kinda heavy!” 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this Argo, but I have enough muscle to carry two bags.” Fitzroy replies. Why would Argo dare underestimate his strength? He lifts both bags above his head in retaliation, flexing his muscles more in doing so. Without a word, he struts towards the front of the building, the Firbolg trailing behind him. 

Well, that attempt at flirting hadn’t worked out, Argo thinks to himself. He hadn’t thought of the fact that Fitzroy could take that in the wrong way. The half elf is insanely muscular, there’s no doubt about it. It comes as a bit of a shock when meeting him for the first time. Fitzroy is maybe 5’4 on a good day, but every inch of his being is beefy. The flex of his muscles when he lifted those cases was enough to make Argo drool. 

Rainer is waiting for them in front of the Annex, as promised. Beside her chair is one large suitcase. The Thundermen line their baggage up beside hers, except for the Firbolg, who keeps on his pegasus bag. 

“I love your bag, Master Firbolg! Where did you get it from?”

“It was a gift from the Gary.” He replies. His large fingers are currently absorbed in their task of smoothing down the front of his tan tunic. He too is concerned about having a good first impression with Rainer’s father, although his standards for a good first meeting are far below that of his companions. Today was the first time that the Firbolg had ever seen the genasi Argo Keene comb his hair. The Firbolg had given a similar courtesy: removing the largest twigs from his curls and organizing the various leaves that littered them. 

“How wonderful!” From the distance, the squeal of tires and the sound of a roaring radio can be heard. “That must be dad! Oh, and considering that music, I’d say he brought my mom with him.”

A vehicle pulls up in front of Hieronymous Wiggenstaff’s. The windows are tinted beyond regulation, the entire thing painted black with a flaming skull emblazoned on its side. It does not look like a vehicle that would hold within it the parents of one Rainer Michelle. One window rolls down, the music blaring. The Firbolg stops his smoothing of clothes to cover his ears before one of the figures turns it down. The trunk pops open. 

“You three must be my daughter’s friends.” Rainer’s father says with a wave. He looks… boring. For someone who has a necromancer daughter who frequently sends the skeletons of small rodentia as a messenger, anyways. “The drive is long enough, we can certainly get acquainted then. The trunk should have enough room for all of your stuff.” 

Fitzroy grabs all four of the bags with one arm, shooting a glance at Argo. The genasi stares after him, eyes wide. Heart beating faster than it should. Blue cheeks turning purple with blush. 

“Hot damn.” He mutters under his breath. Rainer totally hears him. She doesn’t mention it. To her, it is far more interesting to watch him and Fitzroy fawn over each other from afar than to intervene. 

Once all the bags and Rainer’s chair are resting in the back of the Michelle family car, Fitzroy shuts the trunk and leans against it, looking up at Argo. The heat must be getting to him, he looks rather red.

Rainer has climbed into the middle row of the vehicle in the leftmost seat. The Firbolg is single handedly taking up the entire back seat, leaving the right and middle seats of Rainer’s row for Fiztroy and Argo. 

“As my sidekick, I believe you are contractually obligated to take the middle seat.” Fitzroy claims, shoving Argo into the vehicle. His head flops into Rainer’s lap, his eyes still wide, pupils rapidly dilating. Argo quickly sits up. Just as Fitzroy slides into his seat and slams the door behind him. 

“Uh, nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Michelle! My name is Argo Keene, and these are my friends, Fitzroy Maplecourt and Master Firbolg.”

“They know plenty about you three. I love talking about my friends!” Rainer explains as the vehicle pulls away from the curb. 

Rainer’s mom turns around, yanking off her sunglasses and tossing them behind her. Her husband catches them with ease, clearly used to the act. 

“And please- call me Lup!” Her eyes shine with a mischievous twinkle. “It’s so nice to finally meet you three.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Thundermen find themselves getting to know two of the saviors of the universe and learning about the awkward living conditions this summer will bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the following chapters won't be coming out nearly as quickly as this one did. Y'alls comments said I was doing well with character voicing, let's see how that holds up once almost every major character from Balance shows up...

“Rainer? A word?” Fitzroy whispers. He leans over Argo’s body. The genasi sucks in a deep breath and tries his best to forget his surroundings entirely. “Were you not going to tell us that your parents were part of a group that saved the entire planar system?”

“I honestly thought that you knew! As you mentioned, they are fairly famous. Everyone knows that they have a kid!”

“To be fair, you said your last name is Michelle. Not Bluejeans or Taaco.” Argo helpfully adds. His head is turned towards the ceiling, ignoring Fitzroy’s position in his lap. His pants are far too thin for this. 

“Oh! My full name is Rainer Michelle Taaco-Bluejeans. Mom insisted that her last name come first.” 

“I can hear you talking about me!” The legendary Lup Taaco calls from the driver's seat. Her vehicle is speeding down the road. She passes by a particularly slow person and flips them off, letting her hand catch fire as she does so.

In the passenger’s seat, Barry Bluejeans is staring out of his window. Without even looking over at his wife, he replies, “Honey, no flames in the car.” 

“Not even some little ones?” She complains. “You know, you’re the only one who cares about this.” 

The Firbolg releases a large snore from the back of the car. Snippers has climbed from his owner’s shoulder onto the Firbolg’s lab, and he is unconsciously petting the tiny crab. Argo is a bit squished between his friends, but he has no complaints about it. He’s used to close quarters after living at sea for the entirety of his adolescent life. 

“Are you ready to see the ocean again, Argo?” Rainer asks. In a similar fashion to the Firbolg’s movements in the backseat, she is rubbing the neck of the skeletal raccoon. 

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe! I haven’t seen a half decent wave since… well, since my ma died. The ocean’s the only home I’ve ever known.” 

Through the windows, Fitzroy can see in the distance the ocean that Argo is discussing so lovingly. He was never one to care for the many charms that people claimed were contained within the thriving world that is that deep chasm of sea. Not until he met Argo, at least. He was fairly certain that anything Argo Keene did would be endearing to him. Even the pepper stuffed peppers, while both a disgusting idea and something that Fitzroy Maplecourt would never stoop low enough to consume, were quite adorable if you thought about it from the right perspective. 

The red cloak and long sleeved shirt which had seemed like such a good idea in the morning were now drowning the barbarian in a layer of thick sweat. He wipes his brow, frowning at the lack of noticeable results from the maneuver. A handkerchief is waved in front of his face. Fitzroy gratefully takes it, noting the BB embroidered in it.

“It can get fairly warm in here.” Barry says, gesturing to Lup, who’s left hand is still on fire. “Even when it’s not a hundred degrees outside.”

“Aw babe! It’s nice to know that even after all our years together, you still think I’m smoking hot.” Lup replies, blowing her husband a kiss with her flaming hand. He grins. A blush spreads across his face, which was already fairly red due to his pale skin and the extreme heat of the vehicle and its surrounding area. 

To be completely honest, Fitzroy is still overwhelmed by the presence of two of the Seven Birds. He was not yet born when the Day of Story and Song occurred, but he had heard the tale at a young age from his parents. His favorite was Magnus. For many reasons, a majority of which he would not explain for the fact that it would, in turn, explain far too much about him. He told everyone that his favorite was Taako. 

Everyone discussed their favorite Bird. They’re legends to the entire universe, after all! Heroes and villains are cool, but even they can never be loved as widely as these seven idiots. Argo has a soft spot for Lucretia. He understands what it’s like to hide things from your friends for their own good. Besides, she always seemed very nice. Not that any of the Seven Birds aren’t nice, no matter what some of them may try and lead you to believe. 

The Firbolg doesn’t understand the story at all. His tribe had heard the song, as had everyone else in the planar system. They thought of it as more of a fairy tale than anything. If the Firbolg were forced to choose a favorite, he would have gone with Davenport, solely for the fact that he knew the least about him and Davenport was thus the easiest of the seven for him to comprehend. The two of them are also alike in the fact that while they may not have the same speaking capacity as their friends, they’re far smarter than most people take them to be.

Rainer had never mentioned which of the Seven was her favorite. People assumed Barry, with the whole necromancer thing and all. The truth is that she has no real bias towards any of them. If you were to ask her that age old question, she would often begin a minor level rant about the other heroes of the Day of Story and Song. This would end in her saying that all other warriors from that day should be considered heroes, and that Carey and Killian Fangbattle are her favorites. The main reason for this decision is that Rainer Michelle Taaco-Bluejeans is the greatest lesbian of her time, and she must pay homage to her elders. 

“I know what my favorite way to pass a long drive is!” Barry exclaims. He is very clearly trying to engage the other residents of the vehicle in a conversation. The Firbolg shifts awake from his very brief nap. He takes stock of the crab on his lap and gives it a small tap on the forehead, which Snippers seems to enjoy immensely. “Let’s play a game to get to know each other.”

The car is completely silent except for the blaring radio. Lup peers into the rearview mirror and stares blankly at her daughter and friends. Fitzroy is still looking out the window at the ocean in the distance. She assumed that he would be completely in awe of her, given the stories she’d heard from her daughter. Fancy lad, flair for the dramatic- the Taaco twins are the patron saints of the dramatic! 

“Alright then, I guess I’ll start!” Lup says. She merges four lanes over in one fell swoop, not slowing in the slightest. “My name’s Lup Taaco-Bluejeans, she/her and bi, I’m married to this hot piece of nerd ass in the passenger seat, and I gave birth to everyone’s favorite teen necromancer, Rainer. I was an umbrella for a while, I’m sometimes a lich now. I saved the world, I can summon fire with my bare hands, my favorite color is red, and I’m a Gemini. Barold, will you continue?”

“Uh, sure. I’m Barry Taaco-Bluejeans, he/him pronouns, and as for sexuality: I cuff my jeans. I’m Rainer’s dad, I’m a necromancer, a lich, and the ‘hot piece of nerd ass' that my wife mentioned. I love the beach, I’m lactose intolerant, and I’m an Aquarius.” He wasn’t planning on mentioning his zodiac sign until his wife had decided it was apparently necessary. Barry would follow his wife wherever she went, even if that meant telling his daughter’s friends a piece of information about himself that he found virtually useless. 

Rainer has decided to go next, despite everyone in the car already knowing her. “I’m Rainer, she/her pronouns. I’m a lesbian, I’m a necromancer, my favorite memories are of hanging out with my family, my favorite color is purple, and I’m a Libra!”

She gives Fitzroy a look, indicating for him to continue. Fitzroy did not see the point to this whole exercise. Perhaps that was because his carefully organized public persona was not very detailed. The Firbolg and Argo had only just found out that he was lactose intolerant, why was he supposed to suddenly reveal information about himself? Especially his sexuality, that kind of thing is extraordinarily private!

“Well, I’ll go next then. Argo Keene here! He/him pronouns… and… well shit, no reason to hide it. I’m bisexual as well. Uh, love the ocean, love your work- the, well the world saving especially- and I love citrus fruits. My ma died a while back, and the one thing I want more than anything else is, is to be the sidekick for the Commodore.” 

If Fitzroy had been drinking something, he would have just spit it out over the back of Barry’s seat. Argo is bi? Argonaut Keene, his sidekick, the person who Fitzroy is completely enamored with, is attracted to men? Suddenly, every color outside his window seems a little bit brighter. 

Until he starts thinking about the letter Argo had received, the one he had a suspicion was from a lover of sorts. Argo is taken. Not for you to be lusting after. Not for you to be picturing every night as you fall asleep, imagining. What if… 

Outside, the colors dim once more. 

“I will take next turn. I have no name, I do not understand the pronoun question, and I enjoy the forest. That is all.” 

“Amen to that! You know, you may just be my favorite, Master Firbolg.” Lup says. She and her husband have been briefed about all of the Thundermen, and they know the pronouns that the Firbolg has no issue being referred to as. 

“This is… a great honor.” From the context of his friends' discussions, the Firbolg has figured out that the tanned elven woman is the legendary Lup Taaco. He is still somewhat confused on the significance of the chubby man in the passenger seat, other than being Rainer’s father. 

“Fitzroy? Would you like to share anything?” Rainer asks. He gives her a look. She can see, for the first time, that he is truly scared. Rainer has no clue why. No one has been divulging any particularly juicy information. Still, she won’t be forcing him into anything he doesn’t want. The point of bringing him along is for Fitzroy to have a nice relaxing vacation. “We all completely understand if you don’t want to, of course. I’m sure my mom has plenty more things she can say about herself to pass the time.” 

“What do you think I am?” Fitzroy scoffs. He’s hiding. He’s so sick of hiding, but he just can’t stop. The haughty attitude, his fanciful clothes, his reluctance to answer these stupid questions. “A coward? No, I have no qualms about discussing myself. My name is Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, knight in absentia to the realm of Goodcastle. My pronouns are he/him, and- well, my favorite color is crimson, I despise the sun, and I am… beyond excited to spend my summer at the beach.”

In his head, he berates himself for his douchey tone. He’s incredibly happy to be invited to visit Rainer’s family, it’s just the beach part that he isn’t completely sold on. The Taaco-Bluejeans’s were nice enough to invite him along for this and now he’s ruining it. Further proof that despite what others may be led into believing, he’s worthless. Fitzroy Maplecourt, the magical barbarian who couldn’t manage to succeed at anything. 

“You know, Fitzroy, I used to not like the beach either.” Says Barry. “I didn’t know how to swim until I had already died, like, fifteen times. And I consider the sun to be, no exaggeration, the greatest enemy I’ve ever faced.”

“Babe, that’s because you have no melanin whatsoever. Spending thirty seconds in the sunlight burns you! And you took so long figuring out how to swim because you were too busy pining, you would have sunk from the staggering beauty that is me.” Lup takes both hands off of the steering wheel and gestures down at herself. Even as someone who is not attracted to women, Fitzroy must admit that the woman is gorgeous. 

“Mom! Please just keep your hands on the wheel and stop flirting with dad!” Rainer cries out. The vehicle is veering dangerously close to the next lane. 

“Please! I’m an excellent driver. Besides, we’re- babe?”

“We’re five minutes away from the house.” Barry finishes for her. “I think Cap’nport and Merle should already be there. Unless they followed Merle’s instructions again. If they did that, they’re at least half an hour from here.”

The rest of the short ride is filled with loud singing from Argo and the Taaco-Bluejeans family to a sea shanty that Barry somehow already had downloaded on his fantasy iPod. Fitzroy is still absorbed in his own emotions. If he weren’t surrounded by people, he would probably be crying.

Crying is not what men do, Fitzroy. He can hear the voice of his father echo in his ear. If you’re going to make me call you that, you may as well actually act like the person you’re pretending to be. Fitzroy pinches his leg even harder. 

“Hey, Fitzy. You okay?” Argo asks. He looks concerned. Goddamnit Fitzroy, you had to go and mess this up too. 

“I assure you, I am perfectly normal.” His voice is more nasally than usual. Argo opens his mouth again before Fitzroy cuts him off. “I said I’m fine! I mean- I don’t know what I mean. The sun is getting to me, I think.” 

His sidekick doesn’t want to accept this answer, but he’s spent enough time around Fitzroy to realize that he is most definitely not wanting to have such an intimate conversation in public. Maybe once they get to the beach house he’ll confide in Argo. As if Fitzroy could ever trust him enough for that. (Fitzroy could trust him, but didn’t have the guts to say what needed to be said. This is a classic case of two idiots who are both so down on themselves that they can’t see how the other one truly feels.) 

The beach house is large, big enough for all of the people who will be staying in it to have plenty of room. Directly besides it is the ocean. Sparkling white sands, a vast span of ocean that shimmers with a hint of salt and the promises of a tide that will try its best to lure you in. Fitzroy is struck with the realization that this is beautiful. He can’t remember the last time that he saw something truly beautiful. 

The whole crew clambers out of the vehicle, grabbing bags from the trunk. Snippers returns to his rightful place on Fitzroy’s shoulder. He pets his sweet crab before grabbing both his and Argo’s bags, just as he had before. Once again missing the look that Argo gives him, one of awe and lust. 

“Listen, I didn’t honestly think about rooming setups.” Barry admits when the group enters the house. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll get it all sorted out.”

Lup is thrilled by the turn of events. The second her husband is out of the room, she dumps her bags on the floor and rips away her clothes to reveal a shining silver bikini. 

“Why did you destroy your clothes for this?” The Firbolg questions. Lup laughs.

“Now that my husband isn’t here, I’m going to relish the opportunity to head onto the beach without unpacking any of this shit! Feel free to come with if you’d like!” She calls over her shoulder. Lup struts her way over to the sliding glass door that separates the living room from the sand, flinging it open and leaving it as such, sprinting down to the water. It circles around her legs, refreshing after the heat of the car ride. Not that Lup had any issue with heat.

“She always does this.” Rainer stage whispers to her friends. Her chair is floating in the middle of the room, the carvings on its side bright from the natural light that’s beaming through the windows. “Last time, mom and Uncle Taako made dad and Uncle Kravitz put everything away on their own.”

“Kravitz! Finally, a name that I don’t associate with someone who’s story I’ve heard since I was in diapers.” Fitzroy exclaims. 

“Don’t think you’re getting off easy there, Fitzroy. My parents and Kravitz all work the same job. Being Grim Reapers, that is!” Fitzroy nearly faints. 

Argo is more concerned with observing the decorations on the mantle than he is paying attention to the fact that he’s spent the past hour in a car with the representations of Death. A wooden duck painted to look like a dark skinned woman with short hair and large rimmed glasses. Glass bottle, like one of the ones that you’d normally find with a boat inside. This one has a sleek spaceship with STARBLASTER inscribed on its side. Hanging in a frame above the mantle is the broken remnants of an umbrella. A sticky note is taped to it. 'Lup’s former home'. And below that, in a similar handwriting, 'Taako if you don’t shut up about the damn staff already…'

“Alright! I- Lup went down to the water already, didn’t she? I suppose I should know better by now. Okay, this announcement doesn’t have anything to do with her anyways. As you all- I mean, Rainer, as you know- we’ve got 8 rooms here. We’ve also got way more people here than was ever intended. For the interest of ease, I’ve made a rooming chart here.”

Barry places a paper down on the kitchen table. The Thundermen make their way towards it, cautiously. A list of names, two of whom are belonging to fish, separated into 8 different squares. 

TAAKO AND KRAVITZ  
LUP AND BARRY  
DAVENPORT AND MERLE  
LUCRETIA AND RAINER  
MAGNUS AND ANGUS  
CAREY AND KILLIAN  
MASTER FIRBOLG, FISHER, AND JUNIOR  
ARGO AND FITZROY


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitzroy and his role model have a chat as he struggles to come to terms with the complexities of his friendship with Argo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope that this continues to live up to expectation. Fitzroy is pretty sad in this, but in my defense a) I'm a Fitzroy kinnie, and b) I am sad.

The room that Argo and Fitzroy will be sharing for the summer is fairly small, especially in comparison to the chamber the barbarian has become accustomed to during his time at Wiggenstaff’s. To be fair, the rooms could not possibly be very large. There are eight of them! Even in a spacious house, that can’t afford too much room for any of its occupants. 

Much worse than the size of the room is its contents. If Fitzroy were being frank, he would call it an eyesore. Anyone who spends more than ten seconds in here would be able to determine that a group decorated this. The wallpaper is lovely, or it would be if the furniture didn’t completely clash with it. A painting of a strange sort of jellyfish hung askew on the corner wall. And worse than all that- the singular queen sized bed. 

Argo is in the process of folding his clothes. The two of them had decided that Argo would have the dresser, with Fitzroy getting the closet. Said barbarian is currently laying on the bed. Staring a hole into the ceiling. He doesn’t want to unpack his bags until his friend has left the room. Privacy is vital if he wants the genasi to still look at him the same. 

“You’re sure you want me heading down there without you?” Argo asks.

“Don’t worry, I won’t get lost on my way out.” Fitzroy snarks. Why is he like this. “I’m sorry, Argo. I’m… I’m not in the right headspace today. Maybe the sun will do me good.”

“Alright then. Don’t stay up here too long, okay? Rainer said that, uh, one of her uncles is making lunch. Dunno if it’ll be quite as good as my peppers, but…” Fitzroy laughs. A real, genuine laugh, the first bit of happiness that he’s felt all day. 

“I’m certain that it won’t even compare.” He replies. Argo gives him a grin in return, saluting as he walks out of the room. Fitzroy waits until his friend is far enough away and shuts the door. 

He unlocks his case, digging through to the bottom of his bag to find his chest binders, save the one currently on his body. Fitzroy sets them to the side. He’ll put them back in his case and lock it again later, make it as difficult as possible for Argo to find them. Shit! He’s sharing a bed with the man, how is he supposed to hide his chest from him? 

Fitzroy is certain about his identity. He has been since a month or so before his fourteenth birthday, when his body was done changing and he realized that he wanted it to change again. Change into what it was supposed to be. Whatever deity rules over his life made a mistake. He will not allow it to define him, but sometimes it’s difficult to keep so much as a shred of optimism. Fitzroy Maplecourt has not swam since the day that he expressed to his parents how deeply he wished to be Fitzroy. 

There are no magic users in the family who are skilled enough to perform a spell on him of the caliber that would be necessary for him to become his truest self. His family also does not have the funds to pay for a surgery that could attempt to replicate any of the same effects. The multiple chest binders were expensive. He’d saved for months before he finally had enough to get them. It was too late for any of the local children to gender him correctly, he knew that. They refused to see Fitzroy, only his past self. 

Clyde Nite’s was supposed to be his opportunity to truly prove himself. Return home a knight in shining armor, the pinnacle of masculinity, so male that there was no way anyone could deny it. That was a bust. At least the staff at his new school are all too busy reminding him of his failures to figure out his secret. (Fitzroy did not know this tidbit, obviously, but he was doing so well at passing that not even the members of the Unbroken Chain had discovered him as of yet). 

Someday. Snippers hops into Fitzroy’s hand, giving him a slight pinch to force him out of his thoughts. Fitzroy didn’t want to admit how many times recently his pet crab had to drag him out of mental turmoil. 

The rest of his clothing is hung up and placed away quickly, with care. Cloaks of varying shakes and sizes. Button up shirts, fashionable slacks. Summer clothes that he will be avoiding at all costs: tank tops with straps too thin to hide his binder, plain shirts that he feels are too tight and thus revealing, and worst of all- shorts. He has a vendetta against shorts that stretches lifetimes. 

He ponders changing his clothes. While the well put together look is certainly advisable for meeting new people, he has also become rather sweaty in the time since getting dressed this morning. Change would do him good, as his mother always said. Fitzroy switches outfits fast, ignoring the full length mirror that someone has decided is a nice fixture for a bedroom. He can still see his body in the peripheral. His eyes close tightly until he’s buttoned his new shirt up fully and adjusted the packer in his ‘casual’ gold slacks. 

A purple cloak will be a nice look on him. He doesn’t want to steal the rest of the group’s thunder, anyways, with the whole Red Robe thing. Maybe the Thundermen should all get matching purple robes? Argo would look dashing in a purple robe. Fitzroy is fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off of his sidekick if he wore a cloak like this. 

When the look is complete and all of his belongings have been safely sequestered in their newfound homes, Fitzroy runs a hand through his hair and observes his reflection. The boots give him height that he doesn’t have. He’s 5’2 without the boots on, 5’5 with. They help with the dysphoria, at least a little bit. Even with his muscles, he still looks like a boy. Not the man that he should be at his age. 

Argo looks like a man. He’s got rugged handsomeness, legs that stretch far longer than they should- hell, he’s got a moustache! Fitzroy has been trying to grow a moustache for the past three years, with the assistance of various testosterone based creams and powders, and all he’s got to show for it is peach fuzz. 

Snippers pinches Fitzroy’s hand again. The gurgles that escape the crab roughly translate to, Think happy, dumbass! The vocabulary of a crab is not incredibly vast. 

“Alright, my sweet boy. Let’s go meet some saviors of the universe.” He whispers. Fitzroy takes a step towards the door and pauses. Squeezes his crab even tighter, kisses his head, and leaves him on the bed. Snippers flops around before curling up under the edge of the blanket. 

Downstairs, a cacophony of noise is escaping from the small swarm of people. Nearly all of the beach house’s soon to be inhabitants have arrived, and a majority of them are congregating in the kitchen. Taako Taaco, wearing a garish apron asking people to LEAVE THE COOK ALONE and a pointy hat that can almost reach the ceiling fan, is shifting around a pan of vegetables soaked in oil. His husband is playing the role of sous chef for the afternoon. Kravitz has been tasked with crushing the garlic perfectly equally. He will no doubt fail. Which is okay. Failure is a part of living, in Kravitz’s opinion. Although his opinion on the behaviors of the living doesn’t count, depending on who you ask. 

Davenport, a captain’s hat shoved over his pointed ears, is currently engrossed in deep conversation with Argo. They’re sharing stories of their time on the sea. Argo has tied his long hair back, and even from a distance Fitzroy can see the glint of a hoop earring in his left ear. Merle Highchurch is standing on top of the kitchen table, wearing a Hawaiian shirt that he has decided only needs to be buttoned up halfway and violently jiggling his ass. Lucretia shakes her head. Her hands are covered in charcoal, scribbling a drawing of Merle’s ridiculous getup in a sketchbook. 

“Fitzroy! I like the cloak.” Rainer comments. Next to her is a short dragonborn woman known to the public as Carey Fangbattle. Killian Fangbattle towers over her, a crown of kelp and beach grass adorning her head. 

“Why thank you, Rainer. Uh, hello everyone! Pleasure to meet you all, I am Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, and I- are we doing introductions?” The attention of the entire room is on him. Rainer gives him a very polite thumbs down. Fitzroy’s face goes red with embarrassment. He slouches and lets his cloak cover as much of his beefy body as possible. 

Argo stands up, waving goodbye to Davenport, and walks over to Fitzroy. He gives him a slap on the shoulder. Fitzroy doesn’t even flinch. 

“Say, Fitz, can we talk?” He asks. Fitzroy is at a loss for words. What could Argo possibly need to discuss with him? It must be something related to his sexuality. Argo knows about his crush, he knows that Fitzroy is trans. He’s disgusted by him, isn’t he. “Fitz? Listen, I-”

Fitzroy bolts. He runs right through the open glass door, past where Barry, Lup, and Angus McDonald are sitting on the beach. Heavens above, he hopes they don’t try to follow him. He runs until he reaches the patch of trees that Rainer had mentioned. 

His heart is racing. Ignoring the state of his clothing, he leans up against a tree and tries to catch his breath. The sound of the waves in the background, coupled with the chirping of the few birds that make this small arboreal region their home, accompany him as he releases a tear that he’s been holding in for so long. 

“Uh, you okay there bud?” Fitzroy looks up with a jerk. Magnus Burnsides, the protector, right in front of him. The man who he’s admired for so long, a key figure in his transition. The person who he wanted to emulate as much as possible. That man is talking to him. 

“I- you’re Magnus Burnsides. Holy fuck!” 

“I am! And you’re… one of Rainer’s friends?” Fitzroy nods, speechless. 

“Oh lord. Uh, hello then. I am, uh Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, knight in absentia to the realm of Goodcastle.”

“And I’m Sir Magnus Burnsides, knight to the realm of Ravens Roost.” Magnus responds in a mockery of Fitzroy’s accent that, at least to the half elf, is not very realistic. “If you don’t mind my asking, why the hell are you out here right now?”

“I could ask the same of you!” Fitzroy snaps, forgetting who exactly it is he’s talking to. “My apologies for the outburst. I am out here because I’m a complete, utter failure.”

“Somehow I doubt that, Sir Fancysyrup. Come on! Any friend of Rainer’s is a friend of mine, tell me what’s really wrong.” 

Magnus has been working on a set of new benches for the back porch of the beach house, one of them finished already. He sits down on the completed bench and pats the spot beside him. Fitzroy gently lowers himself into the spot, his brain going a mile a minute. The two are silent, at least until Magnus elbows his companion sharply in the ribs.

“Come on! You’ll feel better if you talk about it.” He needles. 

“I…. well, I suppose.” Fitzroy digs into the deepest recesses of his mind, attempting to find a way to accurately discuss this with his role model without having to come out. He comes up with nothing. “I have a- oh, it sounds so ridiculous to put it this way- I have a crush. On my best friend. And earlier today, I discovered, of my own wit and capabilities, that he’s interested in men.”

“It sounds like you’ve got nothing to worry about then! You’re certainly well put together. I’m guessing your whole fancy schtick is hot to your peers, at least to some of them. Sure, you kinda seemed like a dick when you first introduced yourself, but I doubt Rainer would associate with a complete dick.”

“But I do! I have so much to worry about! He… he doesn’t know about me. I mean, he knows me, obviously! He knows about my dashing charm, and my fondness for cloaks: all of the important stuff. But he doesn’t know that I was… I was born differently than I look now. My name is one I gave to myself, my body is changed by my own choosing… do you get what I’m saying?”

“You’re saying that you’re trans.” Magnus confirms. “Why exactly is that going to be an issue?”

“Because of course it is! No one in their right mind would date someone as, as messed up as me!” Fitzroy hisses, tears welling in his eyes.

“Messed up? Not in their right mind? Man, everyone I’ve ever dated must be fucking insane then.” Before Fitzroy can question him, Magnus pulls up his shirt to reveal two matching scars from surgery. A surgery that Fitzroy knew very well, from his extensive research, a surgery that sculpted the chests of masculine people into the ones they deserved. 

His role model is like him. One of the saviors of the entire planar system has gone through the same changes that Fitzroy hopes to one day go through. 

“You- that’s… I mean, I didn’t know! You’re my role model and- how did I not know this!”

“I don’t exactly shout it to the world, if that’s what you’re asking. But seriously, kid. You’ll be just fine. If Argo’s a douche about it, there’s plenty of other people out there.” Fitzroy leans up against Magnus, ignoring everything within him that is screaming to keep his composure. Magnus places an arm around him, which would be nice if he wasn’t giving the barbarian a noogie and completely messing up his hair. Fitzroy relaxes. Then he finally processes what was just said. Wait a second- 

“How did you know that I have feelings for Argo?” He demands, sitting up. “I never said which one of my friends I was interested in!”

“From what I’ve heard, you don’t exactly have friends outside of the people on this vacation. Figured, what with your fancy boy shit, that the Firbolg isn’t your thing.” 

“I suppose I can’t disagree with you there.” Fitzroy sniffs. “I do have feelings for Argo Keene. I’m a pitiful excuse of a man, pining like this.”

“Fitz, seriously, get a grip. If even I can solve your problems for you in, I dunno, thirty seconds, they aren’t that big of problems.” That’s true. Magnus Burnsides’s role in most situations is to lunge into action, not to him and haw with a college kid about if his crush likes him back. He didn’t even do that when he was in college. Granted, that was an incredibly short period of time, and it ended with him signing up for the IPRE. What could he say? They offered better health benefits than their rivals. “Why don’t you go in there and man up? I’d say the two of us are great at that. At least quit ignoring the guy. Based on the way you came running out here, I’m guessing you abandoned the kid without a second glance.”

He had abandoned Argo, hadn’t he. Argo was probably worried. At least, he was hopefully worried. That would mean that he cared enough to be scared on Fitzroy’s behalf. 

“Will… will you come back with me?” Fitzroy asks. God, he sounds pathetic. Magnus agrees all the same, and the pair head back up towards the beach house.

On the porch sits Rainer and the Firbolg, who are currently engrossed in a (mostly one sided) conversation about the embalming processes of the ancient firbolgs. Barry and Lup remain on the shimmering sands, both of them stripped down to their bathing suits. Not matching ones. Fitzroy chokes back some vomit, realizing that Barry Bluejeans, the lover, savior of the ground Fitzroy walks on every day, is wearing jean swim trunks. A true travesty against the laws of fashion and of God. 

Magnus squeezes Fitzroy’s shoulder in what is likely to be a comforting gesture as the two walk into the house. Fitzroy is quite strong, being a barbarian and all around beefy boy, but Magnus is far brawnier. The reassuring squeeze causes Fitzroy to smack the other man’s hand away and rub at his now tender joint. 

At the dining room table sits Argo Keene, his face in his hands. Kravitz is consoling him. Judging by the look on Taako’s face, he had tried to do the same and had royally messed it up. He’s had his fair share of pining, but he’s god awful at trying to help anyone else with their relationships. His good looks were enough to lure Kravitz in, and he wasn’t going to lie to the kid and say that he was sexier than Taako himself. 

“Go get him.” Magnus whispers. His whisper is loud enough to alert the entire room. Fitzroy glares at him before pushing his shoulders back and standing up to his fullest height. He struts his way over to Argo, who looks up at him, the picture of sorrowful adoration. The two lock eyes. Understanding, if only a little, how the other is feeling. 

“I think I’m ready for that talk now, Argo.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitzroy and Argo finally talk, if only about their rooming situation and not the deep rooted feelings they have for one another or Fitz's dysphoric concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit shorter than my previous ones because ap testing season is kicking my ass, but my love for maplekeene goes beyond any concerns about exams

The door to Fitzroy and Argo’s room falls shut with a dull thud. Fitzroy takes a gentle seat on the bed, before deciding to remain on high alert and stand, his arms crossed. His fake glasses perched on the tip of his nose like a disappointed librarian. Argo flops onto the bed, adjusting himself until he’s sitting askew, one leg hanging off the end of the bed, the other straight out in front of him. The cuffs of his thin pants are torn and fraying. One particular string falls off, landing softly on the deep blue covers. 

Every alarm in Fitzroy’s head is sounding in unison. Truthfully, he has no idea what this conversation will bring. Perhaps a tearful coming out, perhaps a perfectly calm discussion about sleeping arrangements for the duration of their stay. Perhaps, if he was lucky enough, maybe Argo would return his feelings, and their conversation could end with the most tender of kisses. 

“So then. What is it exactly that you wish to discuss with me?” He asks.

“Gee, Fitz, I sorta assumed you had an idea of it, given how you, well, ran off on me earlier.” 

Fitzroy didn’t know how to respond. Should he work damage control and explain why exactly he felt the need to run away? Should he focus more on the one bed discussion? Now that he thought about it, it would likely feel weird to discuss sharing the same bed if the two of them knew that their love for men was mutual. Or maybe that would just be due to the world bending crush Fitzroy has. 

“I apologize for my earlier actions, Argo. I’m… I’m reluctant to admit that I am not nearly strong enough to man up to everything that I have done wrong to you. I’m a failure, you see, and I fear I may never be anything more than that.” He stares at the floor, pulling his arms even tighter to his body. “Half the time I can’t bring myself to keep up this act. It’s all an act! Everything about me is performative, right down to the, the godawful actions that I force myself to commit to! I don’t want to run away from you, Argonaut Keene. I want nothing more than to waste away the days with you. Not like that! I mean, yes, but no. And, and with the Firbolg as well, of course!”

‘Real smooth, Fitzroy. You may as well have just gone right out and said that you’d like to move to a small cottage with him, being as obvious as that!’ Fitzroy thought to himself.

“Fitz.” Argo replies softly. “It’s okay! Hell, I’m as much a menace as you, huh? You really don’t need to apologize.” 

He appreciated the apology, but he didn’t want to force Fitzroy into a conversation that he was clearly uncomfortable having. There was no fun in seeing your love in a situation of such pain.

“You are far better than I could ever dream of being. Argo, you’re amazing! Regardless of what my attitude may imply, I think- I think very highly of you.” Fitzroy catches himself and clears his throat. “That was… off topic. Were you wishing to discuss the sleeping arrangements, I presume?”

And just like that, the haughty persona has returned. It’s a shame, Argo thinks, because he thought they were really getting somewhere. “Yeah, I reckon we’d better have a talk about it. I’m fine sharin’ the bed, of course! Reminds me of this one time, back on the Mariah, this one crewmember and I-”

“I do not need to hear of your romantic entanglements!” Fitzroy cries out in a strangled tone. He slaps both hands over his pointed ears. His face is bright red, blush spreading from his hairline on downwards. “Sharing the bed is fine with me as well. I will, of course, be taking the right side of the bed. And please understand that I will be taking one of your pillows to ensure that I have my traditional three.”

He had a system- two pillows beneath his head, and one that, while he may never admit is, was used as a placeholder for a person to snuggle up with. Fitzroy was more of a little spoon, at least in his dreams, but you can’t exactly place a pillow behind your back and fool yourself into thinking that it’s the embrace of another being. You see, Fitzroy Maplecourt is what kids these days refer to as touch starved. It’s a miracle that he has been able to resist the urge to let out a shaky sigh any time Argo’s hand brushes against his. 

“Alright then, Fitz. We’ve got bed arrangements all sorted. Now, are you gonna tell me why you ran from me earlier, or is this turning into a big ol’ guessing game?”

“What? I mean, whatever do you mean by that? I told you, I’m a failure, and as such have bouts of horrid emotion that lead me to do ridiculous things that I didn’t wish to do!” He still didn’t know if he was ready to come out to Argo. He wanted to, and sharing a bed would mean at least revealing that he’s trans. But that didn’t mean that they had to have the other coming out conversation. Was he ready for that? No, he doesn’t think he is. In a way, Fitzroy wants things to stay the same. Pointing out his identity will change it.

“Seriously? You can’t genuinely believe that. Fitzroy, you’re the greatest guy I’ve met!” Argo stands up, stopping in front of Fitzroy with his arms spread out wide. “And as of today, I’ve met some pretty great guys. Don’t even get me started on that Grim Reaper fella!”

Fitzroy laughs. There’s a part of his mind that refuses to acknowledge that he is not a complete and utter failure, but the rest of it is so tired of being sad that it latches on to anything that has a semblance of sense connected to it, as long as it has the potential to make lonely Fitzroy Maplecourt happy. 

“I could say the same of you in return, my dear.” Fitzroy responds, not even thinking about the pet name.

“Your dear?”

“Uh- what? I don’t know what- I- I definitely did not say anything remotely, even the slightest bit similar to that!” He stammers, his voice rising.

“Really? Ah, ‘s a shame then. I’ve never had a nickname nearly as nice as that before. Say, would you mind grabbing that book over there for me, honey?” Without so much as one brain cell processing the end of that sentence, Fitzroy dutifully reaches for the tome. His hand falters as it skims over the leather bound spine. Realizing what he has gotten himself into.

“Okay, I’ve had enough of this little game now. Do you have anything else you’d wish to add to this discussion, or can I leave now?” 

Argo had only intended to have some fun with his friend, but it appeared he had gone too far. It wasn’t teasing him. Hell, if Fitz had been receptive to the name, he probably would’ve started putting the moves on him. Y’know, the classic hands brushing together, pulling him in close, eliminating any gaps between the two of them until it is impossible to know where one person ends and another begins? (Argo had never been very good at that. The last part, anyways. Most of his knowledge on that front came from stolen romance novels aboard the ship, and most of those were good for nothing. His first kiss was plain rotten. He’d gotten much, much better since then).

He snatches his swim trunks out of one of his drawers. “Will you be joining me down at the water?” 

“I doubt it.” Fitzroy scoffed. The aesthetic of the ocean, he adored. The reality was very much not appreciated by the barbarian. Sand got everywhere and was a menace, the water went in his eyes and stung like hell, and of course, who could forget his ongoing feud with the cruel sun. But the look on Argo’s face was enough to make him rethink all of this. “I might! I will, I mean. In just a minute or so. Just the shore. I can’t say that I’ll enter the water.”

Argo’s grin is worth whatever he may encounter out there. One word from Argo Keene could drive him to the ends of the earth if need be. He would do anything for him. The many rages he has been violently thrown into by the sight of his friend in danger are a testament to that. 

Before Fitzroy can continue with his mental ramblings, the genasi is dropping his pants and changing into a pair of seaweed green trunks. 

“My god! Have you no sense of shame?” Fitzroy yells. He covers his eyes with a hand, although he does sneak a peak when Argo’s not looking. Especially when the shirt comes off and his toned chest is on display. “Did you forget I was in here or something?”

He gives Fitzroy a look, noting the expression on the half elf’s face and his gaze, fixed on the center of his chest. There’s two ways that this could be going. Argo decides to hope for the outcome that he’s been dreaming of. “If you want a real show, all ya gotta do is ask, honey.”

“I-”

“I’d suggest a change of clothes. Wouldn’t want your, uh, nice clothes getting wet.” He finishes, running a finger around the collar of Fitzroy’s cloak. Argo touches upon a patch of uncovered skin and Fitzroy shivers, his pupils widening by the second. “I’ll see ya there. Don’t leave me waiting… honey.”

The last part of the sentence is accompanied by a tone that dips far closer to a growl than is safe for public consumption. Fitzroy can’t help but stare after his friend as he leaves the room, a sway in his hips that was not there moments ago. Goddamn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for how h*rny this got towards the end.... there's no excuse other than god i wish that were me


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Firbolg has a chat and Fitzroy gets a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's consistency? I don't know her. didn't even reread this before posting. Sorry for the month that it's been since I uploaded last. As an apology, i give you this!

Waves surge around Argo’s ankles. Above him, the sun beams down, bringing a warmth that is pleasantly enveloping his body. The water is ice cold, but it’s been years since the temperature of the water affected him. He wades in further until the bottom of his trunks are doused, and even further after that. When it reaches his elbows, he ducks his head under. In addition to becoming adjusted to the temperature of the ocean’s unforgiving swells, Argo has also trained himself to ignore the slight sting of the salt water in his eyes. 

Below the waves he can see an entire oceanic landscape stretched out as far as his eyes can see. It’s not very diverse. Most of the larger creatures tend to not get so close to the shore. But there are small crabs that scuttle between clumps of kelp and seashells. Sand dollars that slide back and forth on the ocean floor in coordination with the flowing of the tides. 

And there, amidst it all, the tiniest of glimmers. Argo reaches down, wincing as his hand brushes up against a particularly ornery sea creature. And then he finds it. A piece of sea glass. From his time on the ocean, he knows what it looks like, what it feels like. This particular piece is almost perfectly smooth, an even shade of turquoise over its entire surface. That shade is one of the most rare to find a piece of sea glass in. Argo slips the piece of glass into his pocket for safekeeping before resurfacing, taking a large gulp of air that he had truthfully not remembered needing. 

\---

All inhabitants of the beach house have made their way down to the shimmering sand, Fitzroy (reluctantly) included. He had indeed changed his clothing, if only for the fact that he wished not for his half decent garments to be completely destroyed on his first day in the house. It seemed like eons since the morning. The sun was beginning its long and habitual setting, but it was still forceful enough that Fitzroy had to lather on layer upon layer of sunscreen before he even attempted stepping away from the comfort of the beach house.

Now that all of that is squared away, Fitzroy finds himself stretching out on a beach towel, a pair of gold sunglasses adorning his face. He’d declined Rainer’s offer of one of her wide brimmed hats. He was now regretting that decision. She at least looked shaded, if only her face and neck. Not to mention that she was in a bathing suit, soaking up the sun alongside her mother and uncle. Fitzroy was clad in the fashion abomination that is sandals, shorts, and a shirt that is several sizes too big for him with lettering that would indicate he was still in attendance at Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School. He looks atrocious, and he feels the same way. 

Tanning is not a habit that he particularly enjoys. Neither is swimming. Rainer is tanning, Argo is swimming, and the Firbolg is off observing the tide pools with Snippers and one of Rainer’s many uncles. In other words, he isn’t itching to join any of his few friends in their adventures. Thus, Fitzroy has now found himself in a position where he is both uncomfortable and pitifully alone, which has never been a good mix. 

He lazily thumbs through the pages of the book that he brought. The Hiker’s Guide to Just Earth, it’s called. This copy in particular is really a collection of all of the stories within the series, including Goodbye, and Thanks for All the Eels. Fitzroy had received the book as a gift many years ago, and through some strange twist of events, he found he only had the stomach to read it when he was at the beach. His hatred for the beach had meant that the book had taken quite a while for him to finally finish, but he felt it was well worth the wait. Besides, its spine now smelled faintly of the ocean, and he’d pressed strands of seagrass between its numerous pages. He may not enjoy the beach, but he has always been rather fond of the aesthetic of it. 

Fitzroy lifts his head away from the novel to see Argo rise from amidst the waves, his hair soaking wet. He has never seen his friend look happier. Deep down in his stomach, Fitz feels a sense of longing. Someday, he vows, he will be the one to make Argo that happy. In this moment, he wants nothing more to run up to him and leap into his strong arms, kissing him senseless. Instead, he blinks and returns to his book.

Right as he does this, Argo looks over to him. Fitzroy seems to be enjoying himself, even if he claimed that he despised the beach and everything about it. Argo resists the urge to go to him. It takes every bone in his body to dive back beneath the waves and ignore the butterflies. 

\--- 

The Firbolg moves silently amidst the tide pools. His heavy footsteps are cautious, so as to not crush some poor sea creature. He preferred the woods to the beach, but he was appreciating the trip anyways. The creatures that lived here were beautiful. After all, they lived submerged beneath crashing waves that he was in awe of. All of nature can be admired if you look closely enough.

He pauses in front of one pool, a sea star splayed across the center of it. The Firbolg can’t seem to tear his attention away from its purple limbs. Or, for that matter, the gently shifting water that swirled above it. 

“Big fan of the tide pools, huh?” The Firbolg turns his head to see Rainer’s smallest uncle, a dwarven man in a Hawaiian shirt. His hair is tied up into a bun. The man smiles widely, his eyepatch moving as he does so. 

“Yes. These creatures are... very interesting.” He studies the strange man. Rainer has too many uncles. The Firbolg has no clue which one this is. He does not particularly care, but Fitzroy’s been teaching him some (what did he say the lessons were again? Oh, right-) manners. One of these… manners requires him to talk to others. And non-firbolgs care about names. It’s something that he still doesn’t understand about them, but it’s also something his friends consider important. “What- what is your name?”

He drags out the last syllable for longer than necessary, observing the chuckle that his companion releases. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of us here, right? Not to mention that Lup’s insistent that each of us is an uncle. I feel more like a weird step-grandpa, if I’m honest. The name’s Highchurch. Merle Highchurch.” Merle’s one visible eye closes in what the Firbolg assumes is meant to be a wink. Was there some joke in his words that the Firbolg was unable to comprehend? 

Merle sits down, patting the spot next to him. The Firbolg takes a seat. His legs fold in front of him so as to not take up too much of the creature's space. This is their home, not his. 

“I heard that your buddy had a chat with Burnsides earlier.” Merle mentions, making sure to keep his tone sounding as offhanded as possible. He receives a look that indicates the Firbolg has no clue what he’s saying. “The- oh shit, what’s that kid’s name again? Uh… the fancy one! Sure, we’ll call him that. Your fancy friend was talking to Magnus- okay, I’m guessing the names are getting confusing- my big friend with the sideburns.”

The Firbolg nods. He had seen Fitzroy disappear, returning with a large man who’s grin was far more cheerful than he personally felt was necessary. Given that neither of them had any visible bruises, he’d assumed that they’d spoken and not engaged in a fight. (Normally his mind would not jump to the conclusion of a battle, but both Fitzroy and Magnus (?) seemed like the type to rush into fights before thinking clearly first). 

“That’s nice. You’re pretty quiet, aren’t ya?”

“Why would I talk when I have nothing to say?”

Merle laughs. “Seems like I have a thing or too to learn from you then. According to Dav, I’m always ramblin’ on when I should just shut up. He loves it though, I know he does. I like to remind him that he did have free will when making the decision to marry me, but then he’ll crack some joke about…”

And so it goes for another ten minutes, before Merle finally shuts up. He finishes his speech with a testament to his love for the beach. How it’s always changing, and you can never get bored by it. As the Firbolg watches the sea star wriggle around, he ponders that advice. The cold water laps at his feet. With the sun beating down onto him, he manages a smile.

\---  
The sun sets faster than any of the beach house’s residents expected, shortly after Taako and Lup summoned everyone for dinner. Fitzroy doesn’t pay that much attention to the food. He’s too focused on Argo. The time here, even if it’s only been a day, has done wonders for the genasi. He looks more handsome than ever before. Maybe Fitz is just biased.

After dinner, everyone appears to go their separate ways. The Seven Birds are chatting in the front room, along with Kravitz, Carey, and Killian. Rainer is talking with Angus on the front porch. The soft noises of the waves are interrupted only by their laughter. 

In his room, the Firbolg finally meets his two roommates, although calling them that may be a stretch. The voidfish are in a glass habitat, cheerfully singing to each other. He is overall confused by the arrangement, but has no complaints. The creatures are beautiful. Anyone would be honored to share a room with them.

A few rooms over, Fitzroy is observing himself in the mirror. He is not eagerly awaiting Argo’s entrance. His sleep clothes are as stunning as all of his other clothes, but he won’t be able to wear his chest binder. In the next few minutes, Argo will know. For better or for worse. 

“Fitz? Is everything okay?” Argo asks. Fitzroy turns to meet his gaze, trying his best to ignore his friend’s bare chest. 

“There is something that I need to tell you, Argo. And I fear you may never look at me the same after it.” He looks away, gathering up all of the confidence he’d gained from his earlier conversation with Magnus. “I- I am not a man in the same way that you are. My body is different. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

“I think so. But, Fitz, why would I think any differently of you? You’re my best friend. I’m not giving up on all that because of something as simple as that. Now, if you had been hired by a secret organization to kill me, that might be different.” Argo cautiously walks over to him and embraces the barbarian. Fitz lets out a sigh of relief. After so long bottling up his feelings, he’s able to find some merciful respite in the comfort of his friends' arms.

“Argo, I do hope that there’s a good reason for whatever’s poking me right now.” The genasi has the audacity to look confused for a moment, before remembering the sea glass. He fishes it out of his pocket.

“Uh, sorry Fitz. I completely forgot about...”

“What is this?” Fitzroy asks. “Please tell me you didn’t pick up part of a broken bottle or something.”

“No! It’s- well, it’s sea glass. Actually, this shade of blue is real rare for sea glass.” Argo can’t stop thinking about Fitzroy’s one turquoise cloak, nearly the same color as this. “Why don’t you keep it? I’ve got plenty. Unless you don’t want it! Don’t, don’t accept it on my behalf.”

“It’s beautiful, Argo. Thank you.” Fitzroy’s voice is soft, his smile tender. He accepts the piece of sea glass from his friend and places it on the bedside table. He’d be too afraid of it breaking if it went in his bags.

Fitzroy slides beneath the covers, ignoring the fast beating of his heart as Argo joins him. Neither of them are quite ready to sleep yet, and the tension in the air is neither uncomfortable nor pleasant. What do you really expect from two people with their history and feelings for one another, forced to share a bed? 

After a while, Fitzroy falls asleep, leaving Argo awake and staring at the ceiling. His fingers inch closer to Fitzroy before finally stroking a strand of his hair. He feels like such a creep, but he can’t seem to look away from his friend’s sleeping figure. Argo removes his hand. He pretends to disregard the feeling in his chest, that aching for something more. Try as he might, he cannot get his mind off of all that he wants to say to Fitzroy. Sleep evades him for far too long before he finally dozes off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy father's day everyone! whether your dad is amazing or a total dick, i'm your father now. you heard me


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two of them stay like that for a good five minutes, both awake and trying desperately to make sure the other doesn’t realize. They’re curled in close to each other. Fitzroy can’t remember the last time that he felt like this. Safe and at home in another person’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the obligatory "oh no, there was only one bed and now they're cuddling" featuring a nice talk between taako and argo :)
> 
> i refuse to admit that fitzroy has grown. i am short. thus, fitzroy is short. keep scrolling <3

Sunlight is streaming through the crack in the curtains as Fitzroy slowly awakens. He doesn’t open his eyes, still heavy with the weight of a good trance. His body is far warmer than the thin blanket he dozed off under would traditionally allow for, which is odd… but not entirely uncomfortable. Although he doesn’t remember the blanket feeling like this.

Fitzroy opens his eyes to see that Argo’s arms are wrapped tightly around him. The two of them are basically spooning, as the half elf has heard the kids these days call it. He doesn’t dare move, fearing that Argo will wake up and this wonderful position he’s found himself in will quickly become awkward. His only movement is to snuggle slightly back into his friend. When else is he going to get an opportunity like this? To be so close to the man he loves, the two of them together in a way they’ll never be.

Behind him, Argo blearily opens his eyes to see that he’s tangled around Fitzroy. It takes everything in him to control his heartbeat. Shit, he needs to make sure he doesn’t wake up Fitz! That could ruin everything. Argo has dreamed of cuddling with Fitzroy, he doesn’t want to throw that all away because he can’t control his emotions.

The two of them stay like that for a good five minutes, both awake and trying desperately to make sure the other doesn’t realize. They’re curled in close to each other. Fitzroy can’t remember the last time that he felt like this. Safe and at home in another person’s arms. 

Their domestic bliss is ruined by the sudden appearance of Magnus and Taako, both still clad in their nightclothes. Taako doesn’t look thrilled at being awake, which leads Argo to believe that this was not the elf’s idea.

“Wake up!” Magnus bellows. Fitzroy bolts up, futilely pretending that he had been asleep moments before. Taako can see right through this facade. However, he loves a good love story, and from what he can tell, his niece’s friends are nearing the beginning of their own. He keeps quiet.

“Listen, I’m only cooking for people who’re fully conscious. Fish boy! That’s directed to you, pal.” Argo mocks rubbing at his eyes with a yawn. Under his breath, Taako murmurs, “Idiots. Everyone in this house is a fuckin’ idiot.”

“What’s that?” Fitzroy asks.

“I said I’m making pancakes!” 

“No, I’m pretty sure-” Magnus interrupts. Taako smacks his arm. “Oh! Oh, okay, I get it.”

Magnus lays a finger in front of his mouth and winks. If anything, it makes it even more obvious that Taako and Magnus have figured out what’s going on with the two boys. Or it would, if Argo or Fitzroy had any common sense whatsoever. Argo even goes so far as to shrug it off. 

As Taako and Magnus make their exit, Fitzroy reluctantly scoots away from his friend. He doesn’t want to make Argo uncomfortable with the situation that two incredibly powerful people have found them in. He doesn’t want Argo to see the gentle smile gracing his face from their embrace. Their friendship is too important to risk.

“Eh… didn’t realize I was such a cuddler.” Argo laughs awkwardly. He’s trying his best to ignore the panging in his heart that begs for him to be close to Fitzroy.

“It’s not an issue. Won’t be happening again, I assure you.” 

“O- of course not! That’d, jeez, that’d be kinda weird.” He rubs at the back of his neck. Fitzroy pays him no mind, wrapped up in collecting some clothes. The barbarian wants nothing more than to escape the situation. 

“Argo?” He whispers.

The genasi perks up. He leans up on his elbows, bare chest gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat. Argo smiles. “Yeah, Fitz?”

“Would you mind turning away for a moment? I just- w was I need to change, and- well, you know the information I told you last night. It’d be easier for both of us, I think.”

Before Fitzroy can finish his sentence, Argo has flipped over onto his stomach, face shoved in a pillow. Fitz blushes. He’s never had very many people that he’s close to. Beyond that, he’s certainly never had someone care so deeply about his feelings to do something like this. Because to be honest, Fitzroy would be fine with Argo looking at him, at the body that he so despises. Mostly because he’s in love with the rogue, but also because he knows that Argo would be kind about it. He’s been kind enough to give Fitzroy the privacy that he wants without a moment’s hesitation. To anyone else, that may be nothing. To Fitzroy, it’s everything.

Fitzroy gets dressed quickly. He’s starving, and tales of Taako’s cooking would lead him to believe he’s in for a real treat. So quickly, in fact, that he honestly doesn’t pay that much attention to the clothes that he’s grabbing. At some point in the day that they’ve been here, his and Argo’s possessions have gotten mixed together. Fitzroy isn’t paying enough attention to realize this, and neither is Argo. 

The two of them leave the room to see Rainer, accompanied by Lucretia. 

“Good morning Fitzroy! Argo! Why are you two wearing each other’s clothes?” Rainer asks. 

Fitzroy looks down at himself, already bracing for what he’ll find. While he knows for a fact that the undergarments are his own, the shirt is far too big for him and is very clearly one of Argo’s pirate looking ones. God, he should’ve known! Especially considering that the pants are so long on him that the ankle is drooping onto the floor. 

Argo’s finding himself in a similar predicament. Unlike Fitzroy, he didn’t change his entire outfit, so he knows for a fact that the underwear and pajama pants are his own. But the shirt? The shirt is very clearly Fitzroy’s. It’s a few sizes too small for the genasi, and he’s not usually the type for such sheer material. 

“What- we’re not- that’s ridiculous of you to insinuate.” Fitzroy stutters. “I will be pressing charges!” 

Rainer grins as she continues on towards the kitchen table. The scent of pancakes and sizzling bacon tickles at Argo’s nose, and he looks to Fitzroy with a shrug. Deep down inside, Argo wants to talk about it. To finally have a discussion about his feelings with Fitzroy that lasts more than thirty seconds. But he gets the feeling that Fitzroy isn’t very in touch with his emotions.

Oh, sure, Fitzroy seems to be working through a lifetime of trauma and mental illness. He just won’t talk to anyone about it until he’s on the verge of no return. Argo grew up in an environment where openness about ones feelings was accepted and even encouraged. He’s never felt the need to keep something from his friends and family, certainly not anything that he felt deeply troubled by. 

Taako’s already in the midst of scooping up heaping piles of food onto everyone’s plates by the time that the two boys arrive at the table. The only available spots are at opposite ends of the table, one beside Taako and Kravitz and one beside the Firbolg. Fitzroy begrudgingly parts from Argo’s side to squeeze himself in between Firby and Lucretia. 

There’s barely enough room for all of them here. Even a table of this size is not fit to seat fifteen people. To Argo, it feels like home. Back in the days where he was still living on the Mariah, dinner would not be complete without at least one instance of the ship hitting a particularly strong wave and someone falling into the lap of another. Fitzroy is very clearly not feeling the same way. His lips are curled into a scowl as he shovels in another bite of pancake. 

“How’d things go, Argo?” Kravitz whispers. The day before, he’d consoled the genasi after Fitzroy had run away. The two of them had talked for a while about Argo’s feelings for his friend. Argo’d said that he was hoping his conversation with Fitzroy would make it to a point where he could reveal his love. 

“I’ll be real with ya, Mr Grim Reaper, it was a bust.” Argo chuckles. He doesn’t feel like laughing, deep down inside. “I mean, we had a nice chat. But it wasn’t the right time for me to- y’know. Do my thing.”

“I did tell you that you could call me Kravitz… right?” Argo nods. “Just wanted to confirm. Argo, there’s never going to be a good time. Taako and I confessed our love for each other as the world was about to end-”

“And it was dope as shit. Perfect timing.” Taako interrupts.

“Uh, honey? The entire point of what I’m trying to get across is that there _isn’t _perfect timing.”__

__“Ah, gotcha. I’ll leave you two to it then.”_ _

__“You don’t have any advice for me?” Argo asks. “I mean, I think Firby and Merle had a nice chat, Fitzroy had a real heart to heart with Burnsides. I sorta assumed this was my turn for a, uh, enlightening conversation.”_ _

__“I’ll let you in on a little trade secret, bubbeleh.” Taako leans over. “My grand speeches don’t appear on demand. If you want one, you’ll have to wait ‘till inspiration strikes.”_ _

__Kravitz gently elbows his husband._ _

__“Look at that! Inspiration. C’mon, breakfast is over. Deep philosophical conversation incoming!” Taako stands up, knocking his chair over. He beckons for Argo, who gives the rest of the table a halfhearted smile as he follows._ _

__The two of them head outside of the house and down towards the curling waves of the ocean, Kravitz trailing behind them. Argo rolls up the ankles of his pajama pants so that the salty water won’t splash up onto them before taking a seat next to Taako in the sand._ _

__“So. What kinda advice do you need?” Taako asks. The wide brim of his floppy hat is protecting him from the rising sun, and a pair of sparkling sunglasses that he most certainly wasn’t wearing moments ago are resting on his nose. “I’ve got lots of it and not a lot of time. Get crackin’.”_ _

__“He has plenty of time, Argo. Take as long as you need.”_ _

__“Uh. Alrighty then. So Fitzroy told me… something last night. And it’s big. I mean, it doesn’t change how I feel about him. But I think it might change the way that I need to approach it. The two of us having feelings for each other, I mean.”_ _

__Argo’s attracted to men. As he’d already known before, Fitzroy is a man. He’s not a transphobe, and he’s certainly not going to give up the love of his life for such a petty reason._ _

__The only real issue of Fitzroy being trans is that Argo knows good and well that the barbarian’s been internalizing so much hatred that it’ll be difficult to break through those walls. Fitzroy has enough visible self hatred just from his magic. Argo can barely imagine how many more layers of disgust Fitz has lurking in his mind from years of identity issues._ _

__“I see.” Kravitz replies. After some deliberation, he pats Argo on the back. “I think that maybe Taako will be better with this conversation than I am. I wish the two of you the best of luck.”_ _

__The reaper begins his trek back up to the beach house._ _

__“Krav! Krav, why would I be better at this conversation?” Taako yells. Kravitz spins around, gothic cape twirling around him. He gives Taako a knowing look and a gesture down his body before continuing on his way. “Oh. Oh! You’re a good friend, Argo, d’you know that?”_ _

__“Thanks! But, eh, why’s this coming up now?”_ _

__“Listen. I don’t want to assume what your friend’s secret was. But I’m guessin’ it’s the same thing that my lovely, amazing, sexiest dead man alive, wonderful husband dealt with when he was your age.” Argo raises a quizzical eyebrow. “I guess I have to do all the fuckin’ work around here. Was your friend Fitzroy… maybe, I dunno, called something different as a kid? Maybe wore some different clothes, had a different life. Grew up and did the exact opposite of what Lup did with her body?”_ _

__“Um. Yes. Well, not yet, but- oh fuck. I shouldn’t have told ya, that’s an invasion of his privacy, an’ I don’t want-”_ _

__“Woah, woah, calm down.” Taako lays a hand on Argo’s shoulder, steadying him. “I don’t want to do a deep dive on your friend’s issues. Okay? I just wanted to confirm before I jumped into this big speech and it ended up being useless.”_ _

__Argo’s breathing is not yet on it’s way to being regulated, but he nods anyways. “I- yeah. I get it.”_ _

__“As I was trying to mention earlier.... Krav’s trans. Hold the shock ‘til after I finish my epic speech, alright? Kravitz is trans, and it was a pretty big strain on our relationship at first. He wasn’t very comfortable with me seeing him be vulnerable. I’m sure you understand that being out to someone you love, letting them see the real you and praying that they don’t turn and run? That’s pretty fucking vulnerable._ _

__“Now I don’t know the kind of relationship you’re wanting to have with Fitzroy. Based on the fact that you’re needing a big motivational speech to go talk to him, I’m gonna assume you’re not just trying to hook up.”_ _

__“No! No, I- uh. I care about him. A lot more than he cares about me. And I don’t know if he’s really into the… y’know. Physical side of things.”_ _

__“Natch. Please don’t continue, I’m grossed out enough already.” Taako shivers. “Hearing about other people’s potential or actual sex lives gives me the heebie jeebies.”_ _

__Waves splash up onto Taako’s legs, exposed by a pair of flowing shorts. He pays it no mind. His focus is on Argo’s face. The genasi looks absolutely distraught._ _

__“Fantasy Jesus Christ. You’re really whipped, aren’t you?”_ _

__Argo laughs. It’s forced, a stilted movement that is not convincing in the slightest. “What? ‘Cuz I’d do anything for Fitz and I know he doesn’t feel the same for me? I think that’s called foolish, bud, not whipped.”_ _

__“You’re definitely a fool if you don’t think that kid feels exactly the same way about you.” Taako can’t hold back the riotous laughter that escapes him. His sunglasses fall from his face and into the warm sand. “I’ll let you in on a little trade secret- that boy’s practically in love with you. No, don’t ask how I know, I’ll tell you.”_ _

__Taako ducks his head behind the back of his hand as he whispers into Argo’s ear, “Fitzroy looks at you the same way Kravitz looks at me.”_ _

__Argo reels back in shock._ _

__“Nah, you’re- you’re joking with me! This is all a fun joke that you weirdos are-”_ _

__“Really, pal, you’re gonna call _me _the weirdo? You’re- well shit. I was gonna say that you’ve got an irrational fear of scurvy but cha’boy has that too. Honestly, I think the two of us are just a bit too similar for comfort. Same with Krav and your boy.”___ _

____“Sure, I can see it.” Argo agrees. “You and I are both ruggedly handsome.”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t I know it. Pretty damn smart too. Sometimes I feel like the only sane one.” Taako laughs, slapping his knees. “And hey! Kravitz and I are rocking this whole marriage thing. Consider that a testament to your future with Fitzroy.”_ _ _ _

____“But- Fitz doesn’t feel that way about me. I would’ve figured it out by now!”_ _ _ _

____“Seriously.” Taako deadpans. “I told you not even a minute ago that good old Fitzroy’s in love with you. If someone who’s known the two of you for, like, a day can figure that out, I’d take their word for it.”_ _ _ _

____Argo takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to think it over, to open himself up to the possibility that Fitzroy might actually love him in return. It’s easier to go about his day knowing that he has no hope whatsoever than to know that Fitz feels the same. To know that Argo’s doubts are the reason they can’t be together._ _ _ _

____At the same time… he wants nothing more than to be with Fitzroy. For the two of them to spend every night intertwined the way they’d woken up this morning. To kiss him gently, to soothe him through nightmares and experience the same in return when he’s in pain. He wants to be loved._ _ _ _

____There had been a moment this morning, when he’d been so close to Fitzroy that their heartbeats were practically one, that Argo had become convinced Fitzroy was also awake. He could have sworn he’d felt the half elf snuggle deeper into his embrace with a sigh. Granted, that could have been just coincidence…_ _ _ _

____But when you couple that with the looks that Fitzroy had given him, the blush when Argo turned up the charm- hell, the fact that everyone else seemed to think they were in love! When you add it all together, it’s enough to actually convince Argo his feelings might be returned._ _ _ _

____“Taako?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah?”_ _ _ _

____“You’re- you’re bein’ serious. You think Fitzroy… feels like that? About me?”_ _ _ _

____“Listen, Argo. I would lie to you about many, many things. I wouldn’t lie about that.”_ _ _ _

____“Then I’m heading back inside. I’ve- I’ve gotta talk to Fitz.”_ _ _ _

____Argo runs as fast as his legs could possibly carry him over the hot sand and towards the house. Towards Fitzroy. Towards the love of his life._ _ _ _

____“You go little man!” Taako calls. Then, to himself, “God, I hope I’m right about those two.”_ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____“Fitz! Fitzroy!” Argo cries out as he slams into a wall. He falls on his ass. The hand that helps him up belongs to Lucretia, who gives him a concerned look._ _ _ _

____“I believe your friend’s in your room, Argo. Maybe watch where you’re going when you head down the hall.” She jokes. Argo blushes sheepishly as he continues onwards._ _ _ _

____The door to the room he’s sharing with Fitzroy has never seemed more menacing. The genasi lays a hand on it, steadying himself. His nerves are running rampant, heart racing, lungs crying out for air._ _ _ _

____Argonaut Keene adjusts his borrowed shirt and straightens his spine before turning the doorknob._ _ _ _

____Fitzroy turns towards the doorway with a smile, holding in his arms a sizable glass bottle. “Argo! Thank goodness, you’re done. I was wondering if you’d mind helping me-”_ _ _ _

____“I’m in love with you!”_ _ _ _

____The bottle falls to the floor with a crash._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😈
> 
> i hope that this was good enough to make up for the delay between chapters ahfasduifhs


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love confessions, broken glass related injuries, and found family. It's the Adventure Zone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here i am! back with another chapter almost a month after the last one :) hope everyone enjoys this and that it makes up for the fact that you had to wait, y'know, a month (except for you, sierra. i'm shaking my head at you in envious shame)
> 
> there's probably going to be maybe one more chapter (?) and hopefully it'll be out within the next two weeks :)
> 
> Trigger Warnings: i don't think there should be anything! oh there is some injuries sustained due to broken glass, but its very minimal and the situation is resolved right away/not written in an incredibly descriptive manner
> 
> not proofread, we die like men !

Argo takes a step back, hands coming up to his face. 

“I, uh, I don’t suppose there’s even the slightest chance that you didn’t hear me?” He whimpers. Argo’s watery hair quickly becomes stormy, wide currents rippling through it. “Course not. Jesus fuckin’ christ, I’m- I’m- I’m gonna go! Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’m gonna run away like a coward and ignore whatever reactions are comin’ my way.” 

Fitzroy moves forward, towards Argo, his arms inching hesitantly towards his friend. The shattered glass bottle disrupts his plans. 

“Holy fuck! I mean, damn. I mean- shit. I don’t know what I mean.” Fitzroy winces as a shard of glass slices into his foot. “Argo, I don’t mean to interrupt the very tender heart-to-heart that we’re no doubt going to be having, but I’m afraid that I may have injured myself.”

Argo takes note of the glass on the floor in the way Fitzroy hadn’t, and nimbly sidesteps it. He rests a hand on the half elf’s shoulder in an act of wordless confirmation before lifting him up in what closely resembles a bridal carry. Fitzroy’s quite muscular, and as such he’s usually not one for being carried. People tend to complain about the weight, the ensuing difficulty of lugging him around. But Argo says nothing, holding Fitzroy tight in his arms as he walks lightly towards the bed. 

He sets Fitzroy down gently, noting that he’s changed his clothing. Fitzroy’s changed out of his clothes… or at least, Argo’s clothes that he’d borrowed in the morning. And while the flowing gaucho pants are certainly Fitzroy’s, the gold accented shirt he’s wearing along with it most certainly belongs to the genasi. 

Which, to be fair, Argo’s doing the same. His chest is currently covered by Fitzroy’s sheer button up. But he hasn’t had the opportunity to change. Fitzroy has. Fitzroy had the opportunity to wear his own high fashion clothing, and he _chose _to wear one of Argo’s shirts.__

__Argo can’t take the time to think about what that means right now. He tenderly lifts up Fitzroy’s leg, examining the foot that now has a sliver of glass embedded within it. Now, he’s no doctor, but he spent enough of his life in a semi-dangerous environment where one needed to learn basic first aid. Argo’s confident enough that he can fuck up Fitzroy’s foot less than the barbrian would._ _

__“I’ll be back in a minute, Fitz-” Argo mutters, preparing to gather up some supplies. Fitzroy doesn’t let him. Instead, he grabs the genasi’s hand and pulls him back._ _

__“Please don’t leave me like this!” Fitzroy pleads. His face melts into the divine embodiment of puppy dog eyes. “I may be a strong and courageous young man but I’ve always been partial to, y’know, being stabbed in the foot with glass.”_ _

__“Such a baby.” Argo teases, shaking his head. “I’m just grabbin’ some bandages and rubbing alcohol. I won’t be more than a minute, maybe two.”_ _

__Fitzroy begrudgingly lets go, instead taking to running his hands up and down his arms and trying desperately to not jostle his injured appendage._ _

__When Argo returns a few moments later, he has his arms full of medical supplies. He’s accompanied by Merle, who tosses some tweezers on the bed and a lollipop to Fitzroy before heading off on his way._ _

__“Well he’s not much of a help, is he? I thought he was the healer of the group?” Argo asks. He kneels before Fitzroy, using water and a washcloth to clean up the area around the glass._ _

__“Honestly, dear, you must not have heard that much about Merle Highchurch then.” Fitzroy laughs. He winces as some of the rubbing alcohol Argo’s using to sterilize the tweezers drips onto his injured foot. “The man’s never healed someone when he was supposed to, as far as I’ve heard. You’d probably be better off asking one of the others.”_ _

__Argo clasps the tweezers and slowly begins pulling the glass shard from Fitzroy’s foot. It takes a few moments, and all the while Fitzroy’s grimace grows larger. When the glass has finally been removed, Argo gently squeezes Fitzroy’s foot in order to enable the blood to try and remove harmful germs from the wound. Lastly, he cleans up the area once more before wrapping Fitroy’s foot in a good 3 layers worth of gauze wrap._ _

__He leaves once again to clean his hands and place the supplies in their rightful places before returning. Argo takes a seat next to Fitzroy on the bed, hands fidgeting uncomfortably. The genasi yanks his hair back into a ponytail and runs his fingers through it. His hair’s a frequent visitor to his anxious tics, and when he removes his hands he feels the familiar comfort of the water sluicing through his fingers._ _

__“Now it’s my turn to initiate a difficult conversation, is it?” Fitzroy asks. It’s not in any way malicious, more resigned than anything. “So. You said you love me. I got so startled that I dropped a glass on the floor and now you’ve served as my dutiful nursemaid. Am I missing anything?”_ _

__“Nah, I- I think ya got it all right. I don’t know what else we need to talk about.” Argo shrinks in on himself. His broad shoulders do nothing to hide him from the curious view of his friend._ _

__Fitzroy scoots back, pulling his feet in towards his body with a slight wince when his still-injured foot grazes the bed. “I think we need to discuss who put you up to this.”_ _

__“Put me up to what?” Argo’s head whips towards his companion. “Fitzroy… d’you think that someone dared me to confess my feelings?”_ _

__“Well, you obviously aren’t interested in me. Which is fine! Everything’s fine. So the clear explanation to me is that you’ve been forced into it.”_ _

__Argo takes a moment to process how truly idiotic the man he loves is. There’s surely some incident or pattern in Fitzroy’s past that has led him to think in this way, but in this second, Argo’s main concern is to make his position on the barbarian clear._ _

__“I love you, Fitz. No dares, no coercing. I just love you. I’ve got more love for ya rattling around in this heart of mine than I know what to do with.”_ _

__Now is Fitzroy’s turn for a moment of reflection. He thinks back over the time that he’s spent with Argo during their friendship. All of the late nights chatting about nothing in particular, the messages that they’d send over the Notebooks of Farspeech whenever they were apart. There’d been one night where they’d stayed up talking to each other so late into the night that Argo had fallen asleep on Fitzroy’s shoulder. He’d had to control his heartbeat to keep from waking his friend up._ _

__“I- you’re certain?”_ _

__“Am I certain?” Argo laughs. “I’ve been certain since the moment I laid eyes on you that I was gonna have a hard time staying away from you. The fact that I haven’t already given myself away completely is a bit of a surprise to me, if I’m honest.”_ _

__“This is… much better news than I would’ve expected to hear. I- I love you too, Argo. And, I’ve tried to hold back, but I just can’t. You’re my world, Argonaut, and I cannot believe that you feel the same for me.”_ _

__He slowly extends his hand. Argo grabs it, interlocking their fingers before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss on the back of Fitzroy’s hand. The half elf blushes, stroking his thumb across the side of his love’s hand._ _

__“Can I kiss you?” Argo murmurs, bringing their connected hands to his own heart. Fitzroy nods, and before he knows it the two of them are kissing. He’s never been kissed before. It’s even better than he expected, a loving embrace that would have brought him to his knees if he were standing._ _

__Fitzroy reaches for Argo’s hair, running his hands through the strands of wavy, watery curls. Argo finds himself falling into the kiss more, removing himself from Fitzroy’s grasp so that he can lightly stroke at the barbarian’s smooth face._ _

__When the two of them separate, their faces are flushed red. The tension in the air is of a different sort than before, now centering around their overwhelming desire to continue with their previous actions._ _

__“While I am, um, enjoying this experience quite a bit,” Fitzroy says, “I’d just like to tell you before this relationship ventures into more serious waters that I’m not interested in sex. I mean, potentially? But probably no? Although maybe, if the time is truly right and I’m feeling more interested in the prospect than normal-”_ _

__“Fitzroy, honey!” Argo cuts off his rambling. “That’s fine. I love you, okay? I’ll love you if we have sex and I’ll love you if we don’t, makes no difference ta me.”_ _

__“Oh. Wonderful. That’s, well that’s a major relief then, I suppose.” Fitzroy sighs, leaning up on Argo’s shoulder. “You know, between the whole gender and sexuality thing, I’d argue most people wouldn’t want to go through the effort of being with me.”_ _

__“Most people ‘re fucking idiots then. Honey, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened ta me. I wouldn’t trade our friendship for the world, an’ if our relationship lasts five weeks or five years, I’ll be damn lucky for it.”_ _

__Argo brushes the dark hair from Fitzroy’s eyes, his palm resting on his lover’s face. Fitzroy’s cool breath grazes his fingers and he shudders. Neither of them can imagine a world that doesn’t hold within it this exact timeline, where they’re holding each other close and are unwilling to let go._ _

__But no moment lasts forever. And this one certainly doesn’t. Being in a house filled with nosy people who’ve overheard in the vaguest of terms both a love confession and then a period of silence after the breaking of glass are bound to get curious._ _

__Magnus, as he is wont to do, is the first to rush in, followed by Merle, Rainer, and Lup. Soon enough every member of the household (save for the voidfishes and Barry, currently taking a nap on the couch) is present, staring in anticipation at the two boys._ _

__Out of habit, Fitzroy falls back, away from Argo. He does so with enough force that he tumbles to the ground, slamming his foot onto the hardwood floor. He’s lucky enough to catch himself with his hands, and unlucky enough for one of said hands to slice against one of the shards of glass he and Argo have yet to clean up._ _

__“So…” Rainer asks, twiddling her thumbs. Literally. As though she’d been born the day before and read a teen novel to steal her mannerisms from. “Should I tell Davenport to pop the champagne?”_ _

__“Maybe tell someone to get me a damn bandage first. Jesus.” Fitzroy mutters, examining his new scrape and the spot on his leg he’s confident will turn to a bruise. At the same time, Argo answers._ _

__“Yeah, you better tell him to get on that.” Argo smiles. He helps Fitzroy up, offering his shoulder for support as the group makes their way out towards the dining room._ _

__As the pair hobbles past Magnus, he gives Fitzroy a forceful high five. Unfortunately, he hits the wrong hand, and when he pulls back his own, Magnus can see a faint mark on it. Blood from Fitzroy’s injured hand._ _

__“Shit- my bad! I’ll, uh, look for some bandages.”_ _

__He takes off down the hallway, not hearing Argo’s cry that they’re on the third shelf in the room he’d just passed._ _

__When Argo and Fitzroy make it to the front of the house, they find that their friends have taken seats on the deck facing the ocean. The joy that fills the genasi’s face is undeniable, and it fills Fitzroy with an unspeakable feeling of love and comfort._ _

__Fitzroy’s designated chair is wooden, and of such a high quality that he goes out on a limb and assumes it was Magnus who crafted it. To his left, Argo. The love of his life thus far, potentially on till eternity. To his right, the Firbolg, who seems unphased by the fact that his fellow Thundermen are holding hands, lips red from kissing._ _

__“This is an important time for you two, is it?” He asks._ _

__“Eh, yeah! I’d say so.” Argo replies. “Fitzroy and I- well, we’re in love, Firby!”_ _

__“I got that part. I am not stupid, even if you seem to think so right now. I do not understand why this was not part of your… relationship before. It was very clear to me that you two are heartmates. Was that not the same for you?”_ _

__“It was clear to me, Master Firbolg. But Argo's an idiot, and he didn’t realize until now.”_ _

__“Sure! Remind me, honey, which one of us was it that assumed the other was pulling their leg when we went through the whole, y’know, love confession thing?” Argo chuckles. “We were both idiots, Firbolg, and now we’re- well, safe to say we’re still idiots, but we’re at least a little less dumb now that we’ve gotten our act together.”  
It’s obvious that the Firbolg doesn’t understand the concept of mutual pining, and the conversation between the three boys renews with vigor as Davenport appears, holding a platter of champagne flutes above his head like the server in a high class Italian restaurant. _ _

__“Rainer, aren’t you only nineteen?” Angus comments, taking a sip of the drink he’s been graciously offered._ _

__

__“Yes! Yes I am.” She grins before downing half of her cup. “It’s only champagne.”_ _

__“Ms- I mean, Lup!” Angus calls. Lup turns towards him, the champagne flute in her well manicured hand tipped at an angle so horizontal it nearly spills. “Isn’t the drinking age in this region twenty?”_ _

__“Ango, buddy,” Taako drawls, slapping the younger man on the shoulder, “We aren’t in that region! Technically, we’re- what, ten minutes away? According to the map I made, we’re in a region that’s technically qualified as unincorporated!”_ _

__“That’s not how… the map you made? Taako, you can’t just make a map and have that give you full control over the-”_ _

__“I dunno, my dude. No one’s stopped me so far!” He leans on his niece’s shoulder, purposely messing up her hair as he ‘says hello’. Rainer snaps her fingers and a squirrel skeleton pops from her chair into Taako’s face. “Jesus fuckin’ Fantasy Christ! Lup, tell your daughter to stop messing with me! I would _never _do something like that.”___ _

____Lup gives her daughter an appreciative nod. “Must be Barold’s genes at work then.”_ _ _ _

____Barry’s still passed out on the couch, although Merle’s taken to testing how many empty champagne glasses he can stack on the sleeping man’s body. The current count is ten, and Rainer sincerely hopes that her uncle’s unable to get any more. Her dad has a tendency to be pretty clumsy, not to mention that a lifetime of adventure has led him to wake up forcefully. There’s been enough broken glass in the beach house for one day, they don’t need more to clean up._ _ _ _

____Davenport finishes distributing the drinks and beckons for his husband to come outside and stop wreaking havoc. He squeezes into the empty seat next to Magnus and waits for Merle to come sit on the other side of him._ _ _ _

____Lucretia sips her champagne with an elegant grace as she observes the chaos happening around her. She’s accustomed to it, after over a hundred years with this family. Merle pestering Barry, the twins driving each other crazy- adding a few college kids into the mix doesn’t even affect her at this point. Although she will admit, Rainer’s skeleton pranks can be somewhat nerve wracking. You never know when a good night’s sleep is about to be interrupted by a dead racoon lunging on you._ _ _ _

____“How’s your day been, Lucretia?” Davenport asks. The chair he’s seated in is far too high for him, and his small legs dangle off the edge. Lucretia holds back some well meaning laughter._ _ _ _

____“I’m doing amazing, Davenport, and yourself?”_ _ _ _

____“I’d probably be better if my husband wasn’t up to his- well, you know.” He gestures vaguely towards Merle, still messing with Barry. “You’d think that at his age, he’d be a little more mature.”_ _ _ _

____Merle is, of course, mature. He’s died more than any one person should, and he’s had to reason one on one with a man who was planning on destroying the planar system. But damn, when he said that he’d rather choose joy, he meant it. The dwarf seems pretty joyous right now, balancing his half full champagne glass on his friend’s forehead._ _ _ _

____“Well I’m feeling very left out!” Magnus proclaims. He is, after all, sitting between Lucretia and Davenport, meaning that they’ve been talking over his body like he wasn’t even there. They were going to include him at some point of course, but Magnus has a habit of what kids these days call ‘being overly dramatic for the comedy of it all’. “Is no one going to ask how my day is?”_ _ _ _

____“How’s your day going, Magnus?” Kravitz offers. He’s seated across from Lucretia, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and a closely fitted black button up. This is, of course, a completely different look than his work clothes- a tight ponytail, closely fitted black button up and (pause for dramatic effect) a black cape._ _ _ _

____“Thanks Krav! I’m having a great day.” The man exclaims, leaning back in the chair of his own creation. “I took a much needed power nap before coming out here and man, did that feel nice. Wait, am I rubbing this in your face? Do you not sleep? Do dead people sleep?”_ _ _ _

____The last part of his statement is directed in a hushed whisper to Lucretia. She shrugs, folding her arms across her chest. (Secretly, she’s just as curious about the answer)._ _ _ _

____“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” The reaper responds in a dry tone._ _ _ _

____“Yes! And then I’d know if dead people sleep or not! I feel you, Kravitz, I feel you.” Magnus looks at Kravitz and gives him an overexaggerated wink._ _ _ _

____From the inside of the house comes a crash as Barry wakes up with a start, sending fifteen champagne glasses clattering to the ground._ _ _ _

____“C’mon!” Merle shouts. “I thought I was gonna get a new record, for crying out loud!”_ _ _ _

____“Merle?” Barry asks groggily. “Why the hell is there glass everywhere?”_ _ _ _

____Outside, Lup gives Davenport a look. “I take care of my husband, you take care of yours?”_ _ _ _

____“Sounds good to me.” And with that, the two of them take off towards their respective spouses. What an odd pair they make, standing side by side. Davenport, the smallest of the bunch, and Lup, who towers over him despite not being one of the tallest members of the group herself._ _ _ _

____The Firbolg, having started up a conversation with Angus about his favorite kinds of berries, is ignoring Argo and Fitzroy._ _ _ _

____“I’m glad that we came here.” Fitzroy murmurs._ _ _ _

____“Me too. I love you.” The two of them join hands. Here, with the sounds of the sea around him, friends alongside him, and his love- his honey- seated beside him, Argo feels content. It’s a sentiment that’s shared by all those around him as well, which only makes the feeling more precious._ _ _ _


End file.
